


Spicing Up the Kitchen

by spellwovennight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baking, Cookies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellwovennight/pseuds/spellwovennight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott drops by for the first time without Stiles, and of course, Derek has to know where he is (Cookie baking might be involved).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spicing Up the Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> For 12 Days of Sterek 2014. Beta-ed by AmbySplash. All mistakes are my own.

It is winter break for Scott and his pack, so they are all back in Beacon Hills for the holidays. Scott dropped by Derek’s loft to say hi and catch up, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence these days. It had been almost six years since Derek had first met him in the woods. What’s weird was that Scott was by himself. He always came with Stiles. Stiles, on the other hand, would drop off at the loft uninvited and by himself – not that Derek minded. When Derek asked where Stiles was, Scott replied that Stiles trying to bake cookies at home. Emphasis on try.

“Stiles can’t bake.” Derek says thinking back to the pack Thanksgivings, which were started when they (the oldest ones) graduated high school and all went off to college. They would all come home for the holidays and enjoy Thanksgiving together. The Sheriff and Melissa had banned Stiles from the kitchen (Derek didn’t ask. He knew Stiles well enough that it sounded like a wise choice). Stiles always bought a salad from some restaurant every year. 

“No,” Scott agrees. “But his mom used to make cookies for the Sheriff Station’s Annual Holiday Party every year, and he tries to carry on the tradition. The past few years when he does it, he kinda falls in to crisis mode. He spends from Thanksgiving to now researching cookies.” Scott says sounding disbelieving. To Scott, who didn’t cook, researching cookies probably sounded ridiculous. But to Derek, who had learned about baking from his father, was aware that you could spend years actually studying food science. Plus, it was Stiles, so Derek shouldn’t be all that surprised. Stiles always trying to do the best he could when it was something he cared about. 

“He likes, tries to figure out which ones to make and then looking up and comparing all the different recipes he can find to figure out which one will provide the most yum factor.” Scott continues to explain. 

“Yum factor?” Derek asks, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and smile. That was definitely a Stiles phrase.

“Yeah. That’s what Stiles calls it, and it actually works.” Scott says, shaking his head with a smile. “ Somehow he actually manages to make some pretty rad cookies every year. I mean they look weird. Shapeless blobs that you don’t really want to put in your mouth. And tends to destroy the kitchen, but they taste fucking awesome. Man, you should’ve seen the pictures he sent me over the past few years. He had to make the cookies at school because the party was, like the weekend he got home or something. He ruins the kitchen here, and that’s normal sized. Can you imagine what he does to the school’s three by four square kitchen? Every of inch of it was just covered it dough. Actually I might still have the pictures!”

Scott pulls out his phone and starts scanning through it. “Ah, ha!” Scott says triumphantly and tosses to his phone to Derek.

Derek looks down at the screen in horror. This is why Stiles was banned from the kitchens, he thought. Scott wasn’t lying when he said there was dough everywhere. It lookes like Stiles had put all the ingredients in a stand mixer and turned it on the highest setting so it flung the ingredients everywhere. Which, Derek thinks, he probably did. There was also white flour dust sprinkling the cabinets, egg yolk dripping down the side of the oven, and a big sticky mess that looked like a vanilla extract and brown sugar mixture spread all over the stove range. Derek could even see eggshells sprinkled on the floor. 

“And they continued to let him use the kitchens after the first time?” Derek asks skeptically as he handed the phone back to Scott. 

Scott snorts, “Stiles got banned from the kitchens after the first time. He snuck in at like3 am to make them or something sophomore and junior year. I think they were just happy it didn’t happen again this year.”

“I’m sure his dad wishes he made them at school,” Derek remarks.

Scott laughs, “Probably. Anyways, I gotta go. I have a coffee date with Kira, and Isaac.”

Derek opens his mouth to ask what he meant by date, but then decides he didn’t need to know. Plus, Scott probably wouldn’t even think about it that way. A romantic date way. Scott and Kira had broken up during the first semester of college, but they were still close. And it was Scott that managed to convince Isaac to come back to Beacon Hills after Allison’s death. Derek had a suspicion that Kira and Isaac were both pretty gone on Scott, but Derek kept his opinions to himself. 

“Have fun,” Derek tells Scott as he walked out the door. 

Derek settles back onto his sofa, pulling his mug of tea to his chest. Some scratches against the floor catches his eye, reminding him of the time Kate Argent broke in and kidnapped him all those years ago. In some ways, he thinkst as he stretches back on the couch, he could even thank her. It was because of her that he had reverted back to his fifteen-year-old self and had gained his second outlook on life. It was after reliving in his fifteen year old body, that he finally gained some perspective about how he wasn’t that person anymore. He finally recognized the past as the past, and was able to put it behind him. Plus, he met Braeden and had the first healthy long-term relationship of his life. Their relationship didn’t end because she tried to kill him, but because she couldn’t stand staying in Beacon Hills any longer. She had asked him to come with her, but Derek had refused. Beacon Hills, for good or bad, was his home, and he couldn’t leave it again. That had been during the Scott and Stiles’ first year at college. Derek had been on a few dates here and there, but hadn’t found anyone that held his attention. 

Or at least anyone that wasn’t off limits. Derek groans as he thinks of Stiles and smushes his face into the seat cushion, wondering why he tortured himself. Although Scott had basically accepted him as part of his pack (technically, Derek was still an omega and would remain that way), Stiles was Scott’s best friend and six years younger than Derek. Stiles, still drives Derek up the wall, but now for completely different reasons. He wasn’t that spazzy teenager Derek had met five years ago. Emphasis on teenager. Stiles had grown into broad shoulder and large hands. He still flailed around a lot, a trait that Derek had decided was uniquely Stiles, but it didn’t result on him falling on his ass. He had grown into his body, and he learned to walk with confidence. Enough confidence that other girls had started taking notice during Stiles’s senior year and caused Malia to get jealous and act really possessive. They broke up not long after that.

It wasn’t just grown up look that got Derek’s attention, but Stiles being himself. Derek found himself missing Stiles when he wasn’t around. Stiles had developed a habit of just dropping by the loft whenever he felt like it. Derek had grown used to Stiles’ presence, or rather, they way his energy completely filled up the room. Every time Stiles goes back to school, not only does the loft feel void and silent, but Derek feels it in his chest as well. A desperate yearning that he tries to debate by finally utilizing his texting plan. They usually check-in once a night, right before Stiles wants to try and sleep. 

Thankfully, Stiles hadn’t brought anyone home from college. Derek wasn’t sure if he could handle that kind of torture without being a total dick or breaking down completely. Derek had heard enough of some half hushed stories between Stiles and Scott to know that Stiles had taken the “experience in college” stereotype to heart. And if that led to Stiles learning that he played for all the teams, Derek really wasn’t going to complain.

All Derek could think of now, however, was how frustrated Stiles must be. From what Scott said, he was sure Stiles was over thinking things and making his life more complicated than it should be. Plus, if the activity was tied to his mom, it must be emotionally draining on him. Derek knew a little bit about that. 

Derek decides he couldn’t sit around and let Stiles destroy his kitchen in good conscious, and headed over to the Stilinski House. 

~*~

As Derek walks up the Stilinski’s driveway, he’s tempted to sneak in through a window by the kitchen for old time’s sake (It would scare the shit out of Stiles), but he’s actually welcomed at the Stilinski home by both Stiles and his dad, so he knocks on the front door instead.

Stiles opens the door and a wave of flour is released in the air making Derek sneeze. 

“Derek!” Stiles says brightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you could use some help.”

“Help with what?” Stiles asks blankly.

Derek’s eyes travel up and down Stiles’ body that has spattering of different foods. He had flour everywhere, especially across his face and his lips, there’s dough smeared on his left cheek, cocoa powder settled around his left side of his torso, icing smeared on his right elbow, and it looked like Stiles tried to use green food dye by the look of his fingers. 

Derek notices that Stiles face has turned red under the flour, and Derek tries to ignore the implications of how he had been blatantly been checking him out, which for once wasn’t actually the purpose of dragging his eyes up Stiles’ body. Derek tries to scowl away any potential blushing and gestures pointedly to his food covered body. Stiles rolls his eyes, but lets Derek into the house anyways. 

“Like you know how to bake,” Stiles says leading the way back to the kitchen. “How did you even know I was baking anyways?”

“Scott dropped by without you. Was wondering where you were.” Derek replies.

Derek takes in the kitchen, was surprised to see it wasn’t that bad off. Everything would need to be wiped down, but the sugars were mostly on top of the cabinets and not falling down the sides. There’s only one cracked egg on the floor. What surprises him (although, it really shouldn’t) were the sheets of papers pinned around the kitchen. Stiles was treating this like one of their supernatural disasters, but instead of history and suspects, there were recipes and ingredient information. Stiles had even printed things from science food magazines that talked about the effect of baking soda. 

“I bake,” Derek informs Stiles as he reads one of the articles. 

Stiles snorts. “Oh, yeah? Since when? How come I have never had any of your baked goods? Or not goods. Treats. Treats sounds better.”

Derek presses down on a smile and looks up from the recipe. “You have.”

Stiles shots him an incredulous look. “When?”

“Every holiday, at the very least,” Derek explains slowly. He always brings some sort of baked good for their pack holidays, and even has some laying around the house that he’s seen munch on. “I made that spiced apple pie you ate at Thanksgiving. 

Stile jaw drops open. “You made that? Wait, you made all of those desserts?”

Derek nods and Stiles sputters. “I thought you bought them from a bakery or something, like everyone else in the world. Jesus Christ, Derek how did I not know this? I feel lied to.” Stiles says gesturing widely. 

“Just because you buy salad from Portinos, doesn’t mean everyone else does.” Derek replies. “And you’re the only one that thought that I bought them.”

“I am not!” Stiles protests.

Derek raises an eyebrow in response. “Everyone else has made a request to what dessert I would be baking for the holidays. Your dad has asked for me to make hot cocoa pie for our Christmas meal.”

Stiles just stands there his mouth moving noiselessly for once, and Derek can’t help but track it. 

“Well, are you going to stand there or help me out with your amazing baking prowesses?” Stiles finally grumbles turning around to his trays and bowls laid out across the kitchen.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Derek says, rolling up his sleeves and joining Stiles.

Stiles was trying to make a Chocolate Chip Candy Cane Cookies and pointed to the three main recipes he was using. He explains that he was 95% happy with how the batter had turned out, but he still thought he was missing something. He had also attempted to make marshmallow fluff frosting, but his first attempt was an utter failure.

Derek licks the failure icing tentatively and grimaced. 

“See,” Stiles says pointedly.

Derek pours himself a glass of water to get rid of the taste. “I think you used flour instead of sugar.” 

“No,” Stiles protests and dipping his own finger into the frosting. “I didn’t-“ he pauses as he lickes his finger. “Oh.” Stiles glances at the containers out on the cabinets and lifts their lids to see what was in them. “Okay, I might have.”

Stiles gets to work to recreate the frosting with sugar.

“What don’t you like about the dough?” Derek askes him.

“I like it just fine. But it’s just fine. I think it’s missing something. I just can’t figure out what.” Stiles says gesturing with the mixer in his hand, sending a glob of marshmallow fluff sailing over Derek’s shoulder. “Oops.”

Derek chuckles, thinking that now it was starting to look like the pictures Scott showed him. Stiles probably made most of the mess while he was talking to someone, which meant someone else would have had to help him bake the cookies during college. Jealously jolts through Derek at the thought. He tries to tell himself he was being ridiculous and distracted himself with the cookie dough. Derek dips his own finger into the dough and licked his fingers. Stiles was right. It did taste fine. Good, even.

“I think it’s fine, Stiles.” Derek says washing his hands.

“Nope. It’s definitely missing something.”

Derek sighs. “You’re not going to just let it be, are you?”

“Nope,” Stiles says loudly, grinning.

Derek scans through the papers that Stile had put up, trying to figure out what Stiles was missing. He finds one paper that talked about how importance texture was to eggnog, and Derek remember the eggnog his mom used to make. She would add peppermint and a little bit of pumpkin spice. It wasn’t a combination that you thought would go together, but it didn’t taste like pumpkin. It just added a richer, nuttier flavor. 

“Stiles do you have any pumpkin spice?”

“Maybe? The spice cabinet’s over there” Stiles says waving to the cabinet left to the microwave as he double checks to make sure the sugar was actually sugar. 

“Thanks,” Derek says. He finds it in the very back of the cabinet. He sniffs it, trying to decide if it had been back there since before Stiles’ mother had died. The Sheriff or Melissa must have made something here, because it was still relatively fresh. He pulled it out and went to add a teaspoon the dough. 

“Woah! What are you doing?” Stiles says, suddenly behind him and grabbing the spice out of Derek’s hand.

“Helping you. Trust me.” Derek says, reaching over to grab the spice back.

“Nuh, uh. I put a lot of effort into these cookies. You’re not just going to recklessly add an ingredient just because you feel like it!” Stiles says ducking down and under Derek’s arm and knocking the opened bottle of sprinkles on to the floor. Both of them ignore it, however, and Derek continues to go after Stiles. Not Stiles. The Pumpkin Spice. He was going after the pumpkin spice. 

Derek chases Stiles up against the sink, and Stiles grabs the bottle of chocolate syrup off the counter and squirts it in Derek’s face. Derek flinches, and Stiles uses the opportunity to run to the opposite side of the kitchen almost doubled over in laughter. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Derek growles, rushing forward and attempting to trap Stiles up against the back wall. Stiles struggles against Derek, their bodies grinding up against each other as Stiles tries to get free. Finally, Derek presses the hand with the spice up against the wall and then grabs Stiles’ other hand and pins it to the other side of the wall, and, just like that, Stiles stops moving. Derek moves in closer, so their foreheads were just not touching. They were both breathing heavily, Stiles from laughter, and Derek, well, mostly from the effect Stiles had on him as they fought in such close contact. 

“Fine. You win,” Stiles finally breathes out. “We can try the spice.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah”

But Derek doesn’t let go of Stiles. The way Stiles is looking at him right now makes it too hard to pull away. It just seems so easy to make a move. Derek moves in closer so his forehead softly bumps into Stiles’. Derek can hear Stiles’ breath hitch and smiles predatorily as the sound. He drinks his fill of Stiles warm brown eyes, and Stiles’ pupils just got a little bigger, and then Derek’s eyes made his way down to Stiles lips. He hears Stiles swallow and then, Stiles leans forward, licking his lips – and grimaces. “Uuuuugh.” Stiles exclaimes getting the dry taste of flour on his lips. 

As much as Derek is disappointed that their moment was ruined, he can’t help but break out into a fit of giggles at the sight of Stiles’ face. He looked so betrayed. 

Stiles turns red-faced, obviously embarrassed and heads back of to his frosting, setting the pumpkin spice back down by the dough. 

Derek wants to say something to him, but he can’t seem to stop laughing. 

Stiles is mixing the frosting when Derek finally gets his breathing back under control and presses himself right up against Stiles’ back, closing any space there is between them, and Derek relishes the hot length of Stiles’ body along his front. “Sorry,” Derek apologizes. Stiles stills but doesn’t say anything. Derek cautiously slides his hands across to the front of Stiles’ torso and leans forwards so his mouth is right outside of Stiles; right ear. “I wish I hadn’t ruined the mood,” Derek whispers. He feels Stiles’ stomach muscles shiver and then Stiles turns around. 

In all confidence, Derek leans forward to kiss Stiles, but Stiles grabs his biceps.

Derek stops, confused.

“Do you want to be my date to the party?” Stiles asks, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes.

Derek has never wanted Stiles to shut up more in his life. Stiles just looks so damn good, and was eyeing Derek in a way that made Derek’s heart clench. Stiles waits with a hesitant but hopeful look on his face. Then, Stiles’ question finally registers in Derek’s brain, and he can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah?” Derek asks. “You want me to be your date?”

Stiles elbows him, and grins. “That’s what I asked.”

“I’d like that,” Derek replies softly.

Stiles smile is blinding, and Derek knows he has a similar smile on his own face. It’s the only thing that’s preventing him from leaning in and finally kiss him. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stop smiling long enough to actually kiss him. He wants their first kiss to be great. And magical. Maybe not magical. Magical lies in the direction of werewolves and banshees and trouble. Derek wants it to be perfect, or at least as perfect as Derek can give him. 

“So when is this party?” Derek finally asks after they’ve been standing there and grinning at each other like a couple of loons for a few minutes.

“Tomorrow night.” Stiles glances at the mess around them. “I have to help set things up and everything, otherwise I would pick you up. You mind meeting me at the station at eight?’ 

“Sounds prefect.” Derek finally steps back and grabs the pumpkin spice. “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, I trust you.”

Derek’s smile only widens, and he finally adds it to the mixture, and then scoops some out with his finger and offers it to Stiles to taste. Stiles leans down and licks the dough off of Derek’s fingers. All the blood in Derek’s body rushes southward. “Uhh,” he gets out watching Stiles lick the remaining dough off his finger.

Stiles smirks at him and straightens up. “You were right. Pumpkin spice is just what it needed.”

“Yeah, pumpkin spice.” Derek says, unable to take his eyes off of Stiles lips.

Stiles turns away and heads to the sink, wetting up some paper towels. “Here” He says tossing one to Derek. “You gotta a little chocolate on your face.”

Derek scowls and wipes off the chocolate syrup off his face. He had totally forgot about the cold and wet substance on his face once he had gotten up close and personal with Stiles. “Whose fault is that?” Derek grumbles.

Stiles just smirks at him and goes back to making the frosting. “Why don’t you add the chocolate chips and the crushed up candy canes?” Stiles asks as if nothing has happened. 

Derek watches Stiles closely before he sighs, tosses the paper towel away, and does as Stiles instructs. They spend the next few hours finishing the cookies and flirting heavily. Derek gets to play the tease when Stiles asks him to taste the frosting, and he goes down on Stiles’ finger like Stiles did earlier. 

By the time the Sheriff gets home, the kitchen is clean and the cookies are out of the oven, decorated, and wrapped for the party. Stiles and Derek, however, are both flushed and playing a bizarre game of chicken. They haven’t kissed or haven’t really touched each other besides the few finger licking occurrences. Instead, they’d been flaunting their bodies. Derek exaggerating bending over every chance he had, and Stiles deep-throating utensils as he licked off their sugar filled concoctions. Derek was half hard, and he was sure Stiles was too by the time the Sheriff walked into the kitchen. 

“Boys,” The Sheriff says, looking at them suspiciously. “Did you have a nice day? 

“Yup!” Stiles squeals, then coughs and continues. “Great day! We finished the cookies for tomorrow, and the kitchen’s clean! Aren’t you happy? And Derek helped with the cookies. He even figured out the missing ingredient. So. Yes. It was a nice day.”

Derek nods gruffly and adds. “Right. What Stiles said.” 

Derek’s feeling more embarrassed than turned on, but he’s still half hard in his jeans, and it’s not something he wanted the Sheriff to notice. “I actually got be going. I’ll see you guys later. Have a good night.” Derek says and practically ran out the door. 

~*~

Derek arrives at the station a little early. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button up, top few buttons undone, and a matching blazer. He heads to the back where the party’s being held, when he hears the Sheriff and Stiles talking in the next room (It was habit to automatically attune himself to Stiles when he walked into a building, he couldn’t help it.). 

“Who did you invite this time?” The Sheriff asks with a disapproving sound in his voice. 

Stiles chuckles. “Don’t worry, Dad. You’ll like this one.”

“Doubt it.” The Sheriff mutters.

“I know for a fact that you trust him not only with your life but with mine.” Stiles informs his father.

There’s a few moments of silence, and Derek hesitates outside the door. What if the Sheriff didn’t really want him there. 

“Did you finally ask Derek out?” The Sheriff finally asks.

There’s no response, and Derek can’t tell if that was the Sheriff’s approving voice or not.

“It’s about damn time.” He hears the Sheriff say. 

Derek lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Daaad,” Stiles groans. 

“Well, it is. Didn’t he have something to do about your sexual identity crisis?”

“Dad!” Stiles hisses. “There was no crisis.

“And the way he’s been looking at you. The way you’ve been looking at each other. What are those letters you’ve been using URST?”

“Oh my god, Dad,” Stiles says groaning. “It’s UST and you should never use them ever again.”

Derek decides that Stiles has suffered enough and finally enters. 

“Hi,” Derek says shyly as he catches sight of Stiles over by his father. He looks fantastic. He’s wearing dark navy pants that aren’t too big on him for once and a dark red sweater that looks fantastic against his skin.

“Hey,” Stiles says smiling back. 

They both stand there smiling at each other until the Sheriff sighs. “Oh Boy.” He shakes his head and then walks away, leaving them together. 

Stiles watches his father walk off and then steps closer to Derek. 

“Wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I said I was.”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, but you raced out of there last night. I didn’t have a chance to say good night.” Stiles says drifting even closer until his lips are just brushing against Derek’s.

“Good night?” He asks, eyes on Stiles’ lips.

“Yeah. Like this,” Stiles leans in, pressing his lips firmly against Derek’s. Derek presses back and closes his eyes, enjoying the warm sensation of Stiles’ lips drag against his. 

Yeah, Derek thinks. Their first kiss is pretty perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr under the same name!


End file.
